


Cling

by Yamx



Series: Deal-Series [15]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Culture, Backstory: Jack Harkness, Drugs, M/M, Ninth Doctor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-01
Updated: 2010-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/pseuds/Yamx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be just a fun night out…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dshael](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dshael).



> Written for [Dshael](http://dshael.livejournal.com/), who bid on me in the _Support Stacie Auction_. This is the word count of several incentive things she won added together… and then it got away from me a little. Prompt: _Deal!verse, cling, blunt head trauma._

The Doctor leans back in his chair and glowers at Jack.

Of course, Jack remains unimpressed, since he's on the other side of the dance floor, dancing with a Ceridian, her silky fur pressed against his very tight T-shirt. And that's completely fair enough. The Doctor doesn't mind. Course not. After all, when Jack and Rose begged and wheedled to go clubbing, he stipulated that he would not, under any circumstances, dance, and they'd have to find their own partners.

So it's not like he minds that Jack has taken him at his word. Not at all. And while Jack has been dancing and flirting with about half the aliens in the club – and passing a few of the good-looking male ones on to Rose afterwards – he's turned down all advances to do more unhesitatingly and with a smile.

But damn, that woman's plastered all over Jack's chest, her arms around his neck and her snout on his shoulder, and is this really necessary?

The Doctor takes a deep breath. Jack's just being Jack. He's remained strictly within the boundaries they agreed on. He enjoys clubbing and dancing and flirting, and the Doctor knows he has no right to keep him from doing these things just because he doesn’t enjoy them himself.

Hell, if he doesn’t want Jack to be fondled and sniffed by other people, all he has to do is cross the dance floor, grab the Captain, and twirl him around himself. He doesn’t doubt for a second that Jack would be delighted.

He almost gets up, but... No. He'd rather stay here, where he has a clear view and can keep an eye on both Jack and Rose – she's been dancing with a string of pretty boys, but she always comes back to their table after a song or two.

Also, he'd make a complete ass of himself. Give him ballroom dancing any day, but this "modern" hopping about and the complex arm movements Jack spent the past week teaching Rose… they're just not for him.

And anyway, he needs to watch their drinks.

The song ends, and Jack disengages from his partner with a smile and some sort of quip that makes her laugh. She steps closer and whispers in his ear. The Doctor turns his chair to be able to watch more closely.

Jack shakes his head as he answers, smiling and gesturing towards the Doctor. The Ceridian throws a quick glance across the dance floor and frowns, fluffing up her tail. She grabs Jack's belt and pulls him towards her, groping his arse with her other hand.

An abrupt movement of Jack's arm, a fluid sidestep, and a hard stare combined with some barb the Doctor can't hear, but that makes the Ceridian's ears droop. She mumbles something and disappears into the crowd.

Jack glances around for Rose; she's chatting with a Balhoonian, laughing and seeming perfectly relaxed. He sends her a quick smile and looks over at the Doctor.

The Time Lord raises an eyebrow.

Jack frowns and cocks his head in question.

The Doctor forces a grin and waves him off. The lad's done nothing wrong. Bit of fun, that's all. Not Jack's fault that his lover is both a terrible dancer and the jealous sort. And it's not like Jack did anything to make the Ceridian want to get into his trousers. Well, nothing except not looking half bad and being charming and suave, and he can't help that.

Still, for the next two songs, the Doctor keeps an even closer eye on Jack. He's dancing with a human couple now, weaving through the complicated three-step patterns with an elegance and grace the Doctor can only admire. He has to swallow several times as he watches Jack turning, bending and stretching to the fast rhythm. Except for occasional glances to make sure Rose is okay, he doesn't take his eyes off Jack.

At the end of the set, both Rose and Jack start weaving their way towards him. The Doctor turns his chair back towards the table and grins at Jack. "Having a good time?"

Jack smiles and takes a long draught from his drink. "Yeah. Bit hot in here, though."

Rose winks at him, fiddling with her necklace, which has got caught in a button. "Don't think anyone'd object if you took off your shirt."

The Time Lord growls.

"'cept the Doctor, that is."

The Doctor reaches for his drink to hide his scowl. Wouldn't do to ruin the apes' night out. As he brings the glass to his lips, he freezes. Sniffs, then takes a small sip.

Rose is just about to drink from her cocktail. He grabs it out of her hand. "Hey!"

He smells the bubbly pink concoction, then takes Jack's almost empty glass and smells it, too. "Hell."

Jack looks at him, instantly tense and serious. "What is it?"

"Rose – have you had any of it?"

"No." She shakes her head. "You took it from me before I could."

He turns to Jack, putting a hand on his arm. "How much have you had?"

"Most of it. What the fuck's in there?" Fine beads of sweat are forming on Jack's forehead and his pupils are beginning to dilate.

"Cling."

"Fucking hell." Jack pulls his arm away. "Thought you were watching the drinks!"

He was supposed to. Said he would. Has been sitting right next to them all night. How the hell did he let himself get that distracted?

Petty jealousy, that's how. And he didn't even realize his lapse. If only he'd checked their glasses before letting them drink…

"What's Cling?" Rose sounds scared. Jack turns to her, the anger on his face giving way to tension. "Rose, can you settle our tab? We need to get home." He turns back to the Doctor. "Think you could keep an eye on me, or is that too much to ask?" he spits.

The Doctor bristles at the reproach, then stops himself short. The lad's right. And, if his heart rate and body chemistry are anything to go by, terrified.

He covers Jack's hand with his. Jack lets him, but his eyes are still narrowed in anger. "Jack. It will be all right. I'm sorry I let this happen."

Jack turns to him and his face is awash in warring emotions – anger, fear, and, the Doctor realizes with disgust, starry-eyed admiration and desire that he knows are not coming from Jack's own mind. "Don't be sorry, it's not your…" For a moment, rage wins out and Jack's jaw snaps shut. "Great. It's kicking in already."

The Doctor shoves a credit chip at Rose. "Go and pay, then get back here as quickly as you can."

She looks panicked, but gets up with a brief nod. He takes her hand and squeezes it reassuringly. "Jack will be fine. We just need to get him home."

Another nod, and Rose starts pushing her way towards the bar. The Doctor's keeping an eye on her and a hand on Jack's shoulder. He's almost certain Jack was the target here – it must have been that bloody Ceridian hussy. If he gets his hands on–

He feels Jack's arms wrap around him. The Captain rests his head on his shoulder and mumbles. "Thank you for taking me out, Doc."

Oh damn. Damndamndamndamn. This stuff is kicking in way too fast. How much was in that drink? He needs to get Jack back to the TARDIS so he can run a blood panel, find out the specific composition and dosage of the Cling in Jack's system. Looks like it's one of the most potent strands.

Without preamble, Jack tries to shift into the Doctor's lap. "No," he says, gently pushing him back into his chair. "Just wait till Rose gets back, yeah?"

Jack's lip trembles and he looks down. "Sorry."

Hell. He runs a hand along Jack's arm. "'S all right."

Rose has paid and is now headed back towards them. The Doctor gets up to meet her, pulling Jack with him. He keeps an arm tightly wrapped around the other man's waist.

Jack has his hands all over him – rubbing his back, stroking his hair, fondling the front of his jeans. The Doctor keeps one arm around him and takes Rose's hand with the other. He'll have to let Jack get on with it and just hope he can get them out of here before he does anything even more embarrassing.

Rose is watching them, biting her lip. "What is this Cling stuff?" she asks as they wind their way towards the exit.

"It's… In terms you'll understand, it's a date rape drug. Seems one of Jack's dance partners wanted a bit more than he was willing to give."

Rose's eyes flash with anger. "They were gonna knock him out an' rape him?"

"Not 'knock out,' precisely. The way Cling works, it makes people incredibly eager to please. Will do anything they're asked to – have sex, hand over all their money, fight someone. Doesn’t matter who's asking, either."

Rose looks at Jack, wide-eyed. "Anyone could just walk up to him now and say 'Slap that blonde,' an' he would?"

The Doctor pulls Jack closer, his body language signaling that no stranger is getting anywhere near him. "Better not try."

Jack buries his face in the Doctor's neck, nibbling softly.

The Time Lord sighs. "Also makes them crave physical closeness, to the point where it hurts when they're not touching someone. Hence the name." He grunts. "Makes people literally do anything for a pat on the head."

Jack licks the side of the Doctor's neck. "Pat my head," he begs.

It would be funny if it weren't so bloody horrible. And it's his fault. The real Jack is still in there, and he'll be rightly livid with the Doctor once he's back in control. With a sigh, the Doctor runs a hand through Jack's hair, and Jack quivers with delight.

Rose looks on, dismayed. She usually finds displays of affection between her travel companions "cute," "adorable" and a whole lot of other adjectives he and Jack pretend to hate, but secretly revel in. But she's clever enough to see that this, while not outside the realm of things Jack will do of his own free will in the right mood, is chemical manipulation of the worst kind. Nothing cute about it.

Rose looks back at the Doctor. "Why'd they put it in all our glasses, then?"

"Probably didn't know which was his. Or wanted to make sure we wouldn't be able to take care of him." Thank the stars Jack hadn't gone back out to the dance floor before the Doctor discovered the drugs. Anything could have happened. The Doctor tightens his hold around Jack's waist and doesn’t object as Jack presses his arse sideways against his hip.

"An' I'm guessing us stupid apes can't taste or smell it, eh?"

The Doctor yelps as Jack squeezes him in a way he loves, but that's inappropriate in public. "Exactly."

"But he'll be all right once we get him to the TARDIS? You can give him an antidote?"

He shakes his head. "No such thing. Will just have to keep him safe while it runs its course."

Rose steps around him so she's on Jack's other side and puts her arm through his. "Will do that, then." She manages not to look taken aback as Jack rubs his arse against her hip.

"Will come on to anyone in this state," the Doctor explains apologetically as he pushes open the door. He breathes in the cool night air, grateful the TARDIS is just around the corner.

"I like Rose!" Jack protests.

"Know you do, lad." Hell. He needs to get them both home, and then he needs to somehow convince Rose to leave him and Jack alone. He knows his lover well enough to realize Jack very likely harbors some fantasies about their companion. Fantasies he'd never act on, both because he knows Rose isn't interested and because he promised the Doctor exclusivity. But in his current state, Jack can't be held responsible for what he might say. He'd never hurt Rose – he doesn’t have that in him – but he might say things that would make life on the TARDIS very awkward.

Jack smiles at Rose goofily. "You have a pretty smile! And great-"

"Oi!" He needs to distract Jack. So he says the first thing that pops into his head. "Anything you like about _me_?" It's an invitation for disaster, but at least this will only embarrass him, and he deserves it for allowing this to happen. If Jack's gushing about him, at least he won't say anything that'd embarrass Rose.

"Your cock!" Jack announces enthusiastically.

So much for that idea.

"It's so thick! And smooth! And cool! And I like how you…" In desperation, the Doctor clasps a hand over Jack's mouth. He glances at Rose. She's biting her lip to keep from giggling. No damage done then, except to his pride.

He becomes aware of something moist… and it's Jack licking his palm. Of course. He lets him. At least it keeps the lad quiet.

When they reach the TARDIS, Rose disentangles her arm from Jack's and unlocks the door. "Right, what now?"

"Medbay. Want a blood panel."

"Oh! Can we use the restraints on the med beds again?" Jack asks, his eyes shining with excitement.

Looking anywhere but at Rose, the Doctor mumbles "Maybe another time…"

"So, I'm guessing this 'Cling' stuff also disables the brain-to-mouth filter?" The concern in Rose's voice takes the edge off the sarcasm.

"Yep. He'll say anything that pops into his mind. Would answer any questions, too, so don't ask him anything personal, all right?" A person under the influence of Cling will bare their soul if asked – even if part of them is desperate not to. Jack is very private about some of his past.

"You can ask me anything!" Jack objects as Rose nods. "I'll tell you! What do you want to know?"

"Nothing." The Doctor tries to sound soothing. The part of Jack's mind that's still him must feel vulnerable and exposed right now, knowing all his secrets could be wrung from him for the asking. But the parts currently run by the drug want to divulge any information listeners might find interesting. One of the chemical components of Cling is also used in truth serums.

"Aw, come on – ask me! Ask!"

He looks so eager that the Doctor decides it's best to humor him. At least that will keep them moving towards the medbay. "All right. Tell me about-" Something harmless, but still personal enough that Jack will see it as a real question. The drug doesn’t make him any less intelligent. "Have you always been this well-built?" The adjective will make the lad happy, and at worst, they'll get a story about how Jack was pudgy as a child. Nothing too bad.

"Yes. Always ran around a lot. Never put on much weight. Well, except for when I was pregnant, of course."

Rose stops dead in her tracks. The Doctor manages to keep his face neutral, and distracts Jack by rubbing his back. Jack arches into the touch.

The Doctor knew Jack had a uterine implant, of course, but this is news to him. It's not something he has any right to find out about unless Jack tells him of his own free will. And he doesn’t have free will at the moment.

The Doctor turns to Rose. "You know… might be best if you just went to bed. Leave us to it. Gonna be awkward."

Rose hesitates. "You're sure you don't need me? Nothing I can do to help?"

"Oh, I know what you could help us with!" Jack starts, and the Doctor kisses him roughly to silence him. Jack melts against him, and for a moment the Doctor feels like he's exploiting his drugged state. Not that Jack doesn’t usually respond well to kisses. But he doesn’t let them distract him from what he wants to say. But wouldn't it be worse to let him say things he'd later wish he hadn't? Somehow, both seem like taking advantage.

He turns back to Rose, who's shifting from foot to foot. "Nah. Really. I'll just check his blood to make sure it's nothing worse, an' then I'll just… sit with him."

"Shouldn't he sleep it off?"

"Can't. Among other things, it's designed to keep you… going… all through the night."

Rose frowns in concern "What are you going to do, then?"

"Just stay with him, keep him calm an' out of trouble. Don't need sleep, me."

Rose nods. "If I can do anything, just wake me, yeah? I don't mind."

He nods, privately resolving not to let Jack near another living soul until the poor bloke is in full possession of his senses again.

If he could, he'd leave him alone. But Jack physically needs company, touch and closeness right now. It'd be cruel to make him be on his own, even in a safe environment like the TARDIS.

The Doctor sighs and starts moving them towards the medbay once more. It's going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be just a fun night out…

During the exam, Jack is still exceedingly biddable, sitting and turning and holding out his arm when he's told to with much more eagerness than warranted. But every time the Doctor steps away from him to use the microscope or check the computer, he starts fidgeting and whimpering deep in his throat.

The Doctor needs to double-check the computer scans manually. The Cling Jack was given contains a chemical compound he hasn't seen before. Something synthetic, probably tailor-made for whatever purpose it fulfills. It doesn't look toxic, but he has to find out what it's doing to Jack. Even if that means taking it apart molecule by molecule.

This might take a while, and he can't let Jack suffer all this time. Cling makes skin contact a physical need. "Here," the Doctor instructs him. "Stand behind me an' hold on to my waist." Jack comes over eagerly. The happy-puppy look on his face makes the Doctor physically sick; he swallows his reaction and turns back to the multispectral analyzer.

Jack grinds his groin into the Doctor's arse, his fingers slipping under his jumper and stroking his stomach. The Doctor shudders and ruthlessly suppresses the erection that's trying to form. Not now. Not like this.

Jack's hands wander lower, stroke the front of his jeans, then hesitate. His voice is despondent as he asks, "Am I doing it wrong?"

The Doctor turns and kisses Jack's forehead. "You're doin' fine. Not gonna shag you tonight, though."

Jack's eyes widen. His mouth is working to shape words that won't come.

The Doctor takes Jack's face between his palms and kisses him gently. "Listen to me, lad. I know the real you is still in there, so listen. I can't shag you like this. Not when you're incapable of consent. Know you've given it plenty of times before, an' if you hadn't been drugged, you'd probably still be trying to get me into bed right now, but… Wouldn't be right. Not when you don't have a choice."

Jack's hands slip off him and he stands, shoulders slumped, staring at the floor. He looks so dejected, the Doctor wonders if he's doing he right thing. Shagging the lad would probably be the one thing that'd make him happy and content for a bit.

But no, he can't. If this whole mess wasn't his fault, maybe. But before the drug kicked in properly, Jack was furious with him. And the Doctor's certain that underneath the drug-induced adoration, he still is. Shagging him might make the drug-addled part of his mind happy, but the real Jack underneath would scream bloody murder.

Not that they've never had angry sex. But that was when Jack had the capability to _be_ angry, to scratch and bite and let his lover feel that this was _in spite of_ , not _because_. Even then, the Doctor's superior strength and reflexes always made him feel somewhat uncertain if he had the right to, and it was only Jack dragging him into bed and clawing him out of his clothes that allowed him to let himself go. Somewhat.

Having soft and tender sex now – because that's what he wants and what the drug wants – when Jack wants to yell and shout and tear a strip off him, with sex or without… He shudders, making Jack look up worriedly.

The Doctor squeezes his shoulder. "Let me just finish this, then we can go an' have some food, eh?" He turns back to the analyzer. The faster he gets this done, the sooner he can give Jack the attention, if not the actions, that he craves.

*****

Fucking hell. The part of Jack's mind that's still functioning normally is cursing a blue streak.

According to every ethics class Jack's ever taken, the Doctor's right. He knows he is.

And still. After all the humiliation, the desperate attempts to control his mouth and his wandering hands and behave with some semblance of dignity – all of which failed miserably, of course – sex had been the safe haven he'd been hoping for. The one thing he and the drug could agree on. Something he could still do with as much control – or lack thereof – as normal.

No, he wouldn't have been at his best. But he would have been good. And it would have been good. Warm and safe and familiar. And maybe it would have soothed the desperate, burning need for closeness for a bit.

Fuck ethics. The Doctor's wrong.

So wrapped up is he in the frustration and despair that it takes him a while to realize that he's begun to wander off. His body, controlled by the damnable drug-soaked sponge that normally passes for his brain, has slipped out of the medbay and is heading…

It takes him a few seconds to work out where he's going. When he does, he tries his utmost to go back, to call the Doctor, to just _stop_.

But his feet keep moving him forward, and before he knows it, his hand is reaching for the doorknob.

*****

When the Doctor turns around and realizes Jack is no longer behind him, he's baffled. Cling should have made Jack unwilling to wander off. Then it hits him.

The unknown compound turned out to be a stimulant, cleverly designed to enhance sexual aggression while still keeping the victim submissive. The lad's probably in their bedroom, getting naked and trying to set up one of the seductive displays Jack is so fond of. An attempt to change the Doctor's mind, lure him into giving in to what Jack wants.

With a curse, he leaves the medbay and turns towards Jack's bedroom.

He's almost reached it when he hears a scream coming from the opposite direction. His hearts stop. "Rose!" He turns and runs towards her room.

He finds her sitting up in bed, the comforter pulled all the way up to her chin, staring at Jack, who's sitting on the floor by her bedside, looking scared and confused. When he spots the Doctor, he jumps up and runs to him. The Doctor grabs him around the waist roughly and looks at Rose. "What did he do?" His mouth is dry.

Rose shakes her head. "He… I woke up with him fondling my boobs and trying to kiss me." She sounds mortified and disgusted.

"Damn." He shakes Jack. "Don't go near Rose."

Jack looks at him with a confused, inconsolable expression on his face. "I'm sorry! I just wanted to be close…"

He keeps his hold on Jack tight and looks back at Rose. "Are you all right?" If she's hurt…

Rose nods. "Yeah. Startled me, more 'n anything. Stopped when I told him to."

Of course he did. And not just because the drug means Jack can't help but do as he's told. "He's still Jack, underneath. He'll push, but not force."

Rose just nods. She seems more relaxed now – still embarrassed, but he can see she'll be all right.

"Jack." He turns back to his lover. "Do you have anything to say to Rose?"

Jack brightens. "Rose, will you please-"

"No. Jack, tell Rose you're sorry."

"I'm sorry, Rose," Jack parrots back.

The Doctor shrugs at her apologetically. "He's probably already lost track of what we're talking about."

She looks at him sharply. "Will he remember after?"

The Doctor sighs. "Oh, yeah." Would be kinder if the drug made people forget, too.

"Right. I'll want a proper apology then. An' now, if everyone could get out of my room? I need to brush my teeth and lock the door."

The Doctor nods and propels Jack towards the hallway. "If you need anything – anything – come and find me, all right? Will keep better control of him."

Because this whole episode is really his fault. He should have realized Jack's extremely short attention span meant he needed to keep an eye on him at all times, medical tests notwithstanding.

Rose just nods and closes the door behind them with an audible click.

Jack looks from him to the door and back. "What do you want me to do now?" He sounds scared and sad. The Doctor can't help but hug him. Jack burrows into the touch and clings to his neck.

After a minute, Jack's hand sneaks to his groin. The Doctor grabs his wrist and pulls it off, breaking their hug at the same time. "What did I say?"

Jack blinks, confused.

"No shagging."

The inconsolable expression is back, but Jack doesn’t argue. Not that he could.

The Doctor squeezes Jack's shoulder. "Let's go to the kitchen. Food'll help you metabolize this more quickly."

Jack walks with him meekly and sits down on the bench when told, folding his hands on the kitchen table. The Doctor puts a glass of water down next to them, and Jack obediently takes a sip.

"Right then. What do you want to eat?"

"You," Jack says with perfect earnestness.

The Doctor sighs. "Sandwich it is, then." He toasts some bread and covers it with cheese and kangee paste – Jack's favorite. He keeps a close eye on Jack, and makes sure to squeeze his shoulder or stroke his hair a lot – Jack still can't be without touch for long.

When he puts the sandwich down and tells Jack to eat, he does – but it's clear he's doing it only because the drug gives him no choice but to obey. The Doctor feels sick at the thought. Even if he uses this power only to take care of Jack – keep him calm, fed, and out of trouble – it's wrong to have another sapient being at his mercy like this. He slips an arm around Jack's hips, and the lad wriggles closer to him gratefully.

Once he's finished the sandwich, Jack starts playing with the Doctor's zip. The Doctor takes his hand, kisses the knuckles, and places it on his stomach instead.

When Jack starts playing with his nipples through the thick wool of his jumper, he lets him. The lad looks so forlorn.

After a while, the Doctor notices Jack shivering. He cups his chin and tips it up, studying his lover's eyes. The pupils are still dilated, but they don't entirely black out the irises anymore. Jack's starting to come down.

The Doctor knows it'll be a long and uncomfortable process – the creators of Cling didn't care much how the victims would feel after the user was through with them. But in a few hours, Jack will finally be tired enough to sleep, and when he wakes up, he should feel no more than a headache and fatigue.

The shivers turn to trembling. "Are you cold, lad?" the Doctor asks.

Jack nods.

He doesn't want to move them into bed – Jack's mind is stuck enough on sex as it is. And besides, it's warm in the kitchen, and Jack's body temperature is fine. This is a nervous reaction rather than actual chills. So there's no point in getting a jumper for him. Unless…

The Doctor takes off his jacket, then slips out of his jumper. He grimaces as Jack reaches for him with a happy squeal, pushes off the lad's hands and pulls his jacket on again. He hands Jack the jumper. "Here. Put that on."

Jack's face lights up. He pulls on the jumper over his thin T-shirt.

The jumper's a loose fit on the Doctor, so it fits Jack well enough. A bit tight across the shoulders, but the wool is soft and gives. Jack rubs a sleeve to his cheek and smiles at the Doctor happily.

The Doctor thinks he's rarely seen anything this beautiful. Or this sexy. When Jack's back to normal, the Doctor is definitely going to make him wear this jumper again. Or maybe the navy one. Olive isn't Jack's col-

What the hell is he thinking? There Jack is, defenseless and raw and miserable, brought so low that cuddling into the Doctor's jumper is a comfort, and he has the callousness to find that sexy? The Doctor bites the inside of his cheek sharply to snap out of it. All the repressed sensuality of the situation must be getting to him. He doubles his efforts to curb his hormone production.

Jack reaches out for him and he pulls him into a hug. The trembles are gone, and Jack seems content for now. The Doctor starts massaging his neck. Jack snuggles closer.

If it weren't for the damn drugs, the Doctor would really enjoy this quiet time with his partner. For all that he always claims he only does it to "humor Jack's primitive simian nervous system," he loves cuddling. (Not that he thinks he's fooling anyone with his claims to the contrary, but one has to keep up appearances.) He's just lucky he's found someone who's so physically affectionate that the Doctor can safely blame all cuddling on him – and so unabashed that he lets him get away with it.

*****

Jack sighs into the Doctor's neck, drinking in his lover's warmth.

He's trying very hard not to dwell on the humiliation. There'll be time to deal with that later. Right now, he just needs to keep himself as calm as possible.

He just has to wait. He's not going to do anything bad if the Doctor just keeps holding him like this until he can get a grip on himself. The worst of the lust is gone, he's mostly craving closeness now. And he thinks maybe he's gaining a bit of control back.

He winces as he remembers Rose. He hopes she'll forgive him. He knows what he did was wrong, knew it at the time – but he just couldn't help himself. The need for closeness, warmth, and arousal was just too strong. He remembers feeling crushed when she said no, even though he knew she would, even though the sane part of him was relieved, so relieved, to be stopped. The overwhelming disappointment and pain of rejection may just have been a chemical reaction triggered by the drug, but it felt real. And when he saw the Doctor's angry face…

The memory makes him whimper. Closer. He needs to get closer. He needs to feel the Doctor's love more.

He almost reaches for the Doctor's zip again, but manages to stop himself. That would only make the Time Lord push him away again.

He's relieved he's gaining enough control and capacity for rational action to channel his impulse into something less… aggressive. Even though his own choice mortifies him even while he's making it.

*****

Jack fidgets and begins to shift his weight. The Doctor lets him, keeping a hand on his shoulder. Maybe the lad needs the loo, or he wants to lie down, or- _Oh_.

Or he wants to sit in his lap.

The Doctor raises an eyebrow. Jack is sitting sideways, like a little kid on Santa's knee in one of those ridiculous mall spectacles from Rose's time. Except that Jack is almost as tall as him, and bulkier, which makes this even more ludicrous.

But the lad is calm, leaning against him, his head against his and his arms around his shoulders. And, well – it's not as if the Doctor _can't_ hold him like this. Time Lord strength, after all. If this is what Jack wants, if this will keep him calm and content…

The Doctor pulls his lover closer and begins stroking his back. They've passed the point of embarrassment long since. There's really nothing wrong with this. Hell, Rose would probably call it cute, and maybe she wouldn't be wrong.

He hasn't held anyone like this since- He stops himself from following that train of thought. Jack is not his child nor grandchild. He's his lover, for all that he needs care and protection right now.

To distract himself and to keep Jack calm, the Doctor starts humming under his breath – soothing songs and lullabies from Earth, Boeshane, and even Gallifrey. At first, he thinks Jack doesn't react at all, but then he feels the moisture of quiet tears on his scalp.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

He feels Jack nod. "I love you," he says quietly.

The Doctor's breath catches in his throat. He's never said the words to Jack, not even when Jack said them first. He just can't get them out. Luckily for him, Jack doesn’t mind. The one time he said anything about it at all, it was a simple "Don't worry – I know the feelings are there. Doesn’t matter to me if you can say it." But does he need to hear them now, in his raw and defenseless state?

Jack pulls back and looks at the Doctor earnestly. "You love me, too," he says with perfect confidence, and leans back in to nibble the Doctor's ear, tickling the earlobe with his tongue.

The Doctor smiles and turns his head to give him better access. "Yeah, lad. I do."

It's hours until Jack finally falls asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be just a fun night out…

The Doctor wakes up half-leaning, half-lying on the kitchen bench. He stretches, cracking his spine. There's a terrible crick in his neck that he'll feel all day.

Worse, there's no Jack.

It's been seven hours and twenty-three minutes since Jack fell asleep. He was awake for most of that – fell asleep about an hour ago. So whenever Jack woke up, odds are he was back to himself by then.

The Doctor gets up and starts towards Jack's bedroom. He needs to check on him, apologize, see where they stand now.

Jack's not in his room. But the Doctor's jumper is lying on the floor, crumpled into a heap. The Doctor pulls it back on, breathing in the mingled scent of himself and Jack. He closes his eyes for a moment. He hopes he can make things right.

The Doctor glances into the en-suite bathroom. The shower cubicle's wet, the clothes Jack wore to the club are in the laundry bin, and the razor's been used.

Contrary to what most people would think at first glance, Jack doesn’t take long for his morning ablutions, but this still means he must have been up for a while. The Doctor berates himself for not noticing earlier.

This is the downside of trusting someone this much – being so relaxed around them that your inner alarm system lets you sleep through them moving around and climbing off and over you. He just hopes Jack hasn't done anything stupid – like gone out to confront the Ceridian by himself. She's no match for him, of course, but dangerous people often have dangerous allies. And besides, this is not just about bringing her down. She must have suppliers, who must have other customers. He heads for the console room.

There he finds Jack, half-buried under the console, tinkering. He almost smiles. That's a habit the lad's picked up from him – working on the TARDIS to calm his nerves. Of course, they've talked about what Jack can and can't work on by himself. Right now, he's scrubbing the exothermic connectors. Boring and physically demanding work, but very satisfying once it's done. And well within the range of things he doesn’t expect Jack to ask about anymore.

He clears his throat. Jack lifts his head, throws him a disgusted glance, and goes back to scrubbing. The Doctor flinches.

"Jack."

"Better for you if we don't talk right now. I'm liable to say stuff." He sounds just as angry as the Doctor imagined. But it's worse that he won't even look at him.

"I can handle that."

Jack snorts. "Yeah, that's what you're good at, isn't it? 'Handling' stuff." He pushes himself out from under the console and stands up, his whole body radiating tension. "Or people."

"I'm sorry I didn't watch the drin-"

"Like that's the fucking problem here? People screw up, overlook things." He narrows his eyes. "Even almighty, all-knowing Time Lords!"

The Doctor feels himself starting to bristle. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to stay calm. Jack's got a right to be upset. "So if it's not the drinks you're angry about, what is it?"

Jack drops the steel wool he'd been using on the console and draws himself up into a fighting stance. "You not taking care of me after."

"What?" He was prepared to let Jack tear a strip off him about the drinks, but now he's being ridiculous. "I took care of you all bloody night!"

"Like I was a goddamn pet, or at best a toddler, yeah." Jack's eyes narrow and his voice becomes sharp. "You knew what _I_ wanted, but you decided in your infinite wisdom that I couldn't have it."

The Doctor blinks. "Sex?" he asks, baffled. "You're upset I wouldn't shag you when you were incapable of consent?"

"I'm your lover, goddammit! You were supposed to make love to me, not coddle me like a colicky baby!"

"But… you'd been so angry." His mind flashes back to the way Jack pulled away from him at the club, the venom in his voice as he berated him for letting this happen.

"We've had sex when we were angry before."

"But it wouldn't have been that _kind_ of sex. The drug would have made you all docile and gentle. Thought you'd be upset about havin' that kind of sex with me after I let you down like that."

"And you thought I wouldn't be upset about being wrapped into your fucking jumper like a whiney kitten?" Jack's voice is echoing off the ceiling.

"I couldn't think how else to keep you calm!" Damn, can't Jack see he did the best he could? Of course he understands how humiliating the memory must be, but it was the best he could do at the time.

Jack's hand slaps the console. "Fucking my brains out might have worked!"

The Doctor shakes his head. Why won’t Jack understand that sex was never an option? "Pardon me for thinking it might be better to go with something less intrusive!"

He's hit in the chest by something hard and lumpy. Looking down, he recognizes the steel wool. He looks up to see Jack staring at him with a mixture of rage and ridicule.

"Have you fucking _met_ me?" His fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are white. "What do you think I find more intrusive – being thrown on the mattress and having the drugs fucked out of my brain, or being cradled and having lullabies cooed to me on my so-called lover's lap?"

*****

Jack sees the Doctor's face crumple in sudden understanding. The Time Lord turns away and rubs his forehead. He starts pacing. Then he turns back, his eyes straight on Jack's. "I was wrong. I'm sorry."

It's the honesty of the statement, the complete lack of excuses, that make Jack take a deep breath and lean back against the console. "What the hell were you thinking?"

The Doctor shakes his head. "I just… didn't consider that you're an alien."

Jack raises an eyebrow.

"Or that I am. Either way. I didn't…" He shakes his head. "I looked at it like a Time Lord."

Jack cocks his head. He makes an effort to release his clenched fists and breathe in and out slowly. The Doctor rarely talks about what it's like to be a Time Lord. Jack will make himself stay calm long enough to listen. "Explain?"

"Back when I told you I don't have casual sex… well, it's not just me. It's us. Time Lords… to us, sex is not recreational. You don't get casual sex with Gallifreyans, not because we're so high 'n mighty, but because of the way we're wired." The Doctor's visibly fighting for words. "If we're just casually interested, we simply don't develop the drive. It goes much deeper – deeper than the physical, than thoughts, deeper than emotions…" He looks away and starts pacing again.

Jack lets that sink in. Every species he's ever met knew the concept of recreational sex. Yes, it's frowned upon in many cultures, but that's _because_ the drive is always there. But Time Lords are far from a normal species, for all that they could pass for human. "Deeper?"

"There's no word for it in human language. Or any language except Gallifreyan. It's a connection on a level that…" He sighs. "I can't explain it to you, Jack. It involves senses, instincts and perceptions you're biologically incapable of understanding." His eyes are pleading. This is not a put-down, not one of the "I'm so superior" speeches the Doctor is fond of. These are the eyes of a man who's desperate to be understood, but knows he won't be. Will never be again. Because there's no one left in the universe who could.

Jack breathes in sharply. The loneliness of the Doctor's existence hits him cold and hard like a block of ice. He's not just the last of his species – he's the last of a species completely unlike any other species in the universe. There's no one else who can even come close to his way of thinking and feeling anymore. And there never will be again. One night of humiliation seems a petty complaint compared to centuries of crushing isolation.

He takes three steps and stands in front of the Doctor, interrupting the pacing. The Time Lord doesn’t look at him. Jack takes his chin and forces him to – gently, but inexorably. "You judged what I would want by your standards and prejudices."

The Doctor nods, as much as Jack's hand on his chin will allow. He's visibly uncomfortable to be thus restrained, but he accepts it.

Jack keeps searching the Doctor's eyes. "Promise me you'll never do that to me again."

The Doctor flinches. There's panic in his eyes.

Jack relents. "Promise me you'll _try_ never to do that to me again."

This time, the Doctor doesn’t hesitate. "Promise."

"Promise me if something like last night happens again, you'll screw my brains out."

The Doctor squares his jaw. "Don't mean to let that happen again. Ever."

Jack rolls his eyes. "You didn't 'mean to' last night. Things go wrong."

The Doctor looks unhappy, but doesn’t protest.

" _If_ it happens, you have my blanket consent to fuck me six ways till Sunday to keep me out of trouble."

Another nod, and the Doctor's shoulders lose some of their tension.

Jack tightens his hold and leans in for a kiss – rough, forceful, savage. The Doctor is passive, but eager. Jack sucks the Doctor's lower lip into his mouth and bites it until he tastes blood. With a small hiss of pain, the Doctor steps closer, until their chests are touching and his thigh is rubbing against Jack's.

They're both out of breath when they break apart.

"I forgive you," Jack says. He knows this is not the end of it – things have been raised that they'll have to talk about. But it's a start.

He can see in the Doctor's eyes that he knows it too, but all he says is "Thank you."

Jack kisses him again, tenderly now, gently licking the places he made bleed. The Doctor plays his tongue across Jack's, responding but letting him lead. A cool hand sneaks around Jack's waist and lands in the small of his back. Jack smiles into the kiss and mumbles "You're such a cuddler."

Instead of the heated denial that remark usually gets, he can feel the Doctor's mouth curving upwards and his other hand starts caressing Jack's nipple.

And that reminds Jack of something else he needs to do. He breaks off the kiss. "As much as I'd like to explore this further… I need to talk to Rose." He shifts his weight uncomfortably.

The Doctor stills. "Want me to come with you? Was my fault more than yours."

Jack shakes his head. "No." He rubs his neck. "Unless you think she'd feel safer with you there?"

The Doctor shakes his head. "She feels safe with you. She was just upset last night. Knows you're not like that."

"Hope you're right." Jack lets his hand trail down the Doctor's arm as he turns from him towards the doorway.

*****

Rose is lying on her bed, flipping through a magazine. She's decided it'd be best to stay in her room until one of the blokes lets her know it's all over. The chocolate and raisins from her desk drawer made an unsatisfying breakfast, but apart from that, lazing around in bed all morning has been quite nice. The Doctor normally makes them start the day early, bored with their sleeping habits and excited to run off and show them new places.

She wonders if the blokes are okay. But she figures if anything was seriously wrong, the Doctor would have let her know. Or the TARDIS would have. Best to just let them get on with it.

There's a hesitant knock on her door. Neither of the blokes is usually hesitant, but right now either one might be, so she calls out "Who's there?"

"It's Jack."

For a moment, she feels herself tense. But he sounds so shy and tentative. She sits up. "'S open."

The door opens, but Jack doesn't come in. He leans in the doorframe, staring at his shoes.

He looks miserable. Rose's heart goes out to him. He's one of her two best mates. Yes, she was scared when she woke up last night with his body pinning her down and his hands all over her. For a second, her sleep-addled brain thought she was somehow back with Jimmy, and by the time she realized it was Jack, his tongue was already in her mouth. Even knowing it wasn't his fault, the memory makes her flinch.

But it's not like he could help it. Now that she's calm and over the first shock, she realizes the memory is probably as bad for him – if not worse. She gets up and takes a step towards Jack.

He looks at her. It's clearly a fight, but he does. "I'm so, so sorry, Rose."

She smiles. "Okay."

Jack blinks. "Okay?"

She shrugs. "Yeah. Not much you can do 'cept apologize, is there? 'S all I needed to hear." And if she's still a bit uncomfortable, there's no way she'll let him know that. Because there's really nothing else he can do. She'll just have to get over it.

He opens his arms and she makes herself step closer. As he wraps her in a warm embrace, she feels the tension flow out of her. This feels safe, not awkward like she'd feared. They really are okay. Thank god. She returns his hug and grins up at him. "You have to let me win our next tickle fight, though."

He grimaces, but there's a twinkle in his eyes. "That's fair."

She gives him a peck on the cheek, then looks at him earnestly. "How're you?"

"Sober. Exhausted. Humiliated."

She takes his hand. "Sounds like me after the first time me an' my mates went to a strip club."

Jack grins. "That sounds like a story I'd like to hear."

"Make me some tea and maybe I'll tell you."

She's still holding his hand as he leads her towards the kitchen.

*****

They sit in the kitchen while Rose tells him an outrageous story of sneaking out one night to see what in her century was considered a scandalous show full of nudity and fabulous props. Jack's laughing so hard his sides hurt. Rose was right, the story of how she had a few drinks too many and tried to improve the show through audience participation is almost as embarrassing as what happened to him, and the fact that she tells it to him with a grin and fighting down giggles gives him hope that one day, they'll all look back at last night and laugh.

Rose is just at the part where she got entangled in the feather boa and couldn't take her arms down anymore when Jack spots the Doctor in the doorway, watching them with a smile. He grins at his lover.

Noticing his look, Rose turns around and spots the Doctor, but that doesn’t stop her from bringing her story to its ridiculous conclusion. They're all laughing by the end.

When they calm down the Doctor touches her shoulder. "You two okay, then?"

Rose grins. "Yeah. No harm done. Not his fault, anyway."

The Doctor nods. "Yeah. Was mine. Should have kept a closer eye on him." His expression is chagrined. "I'm sorry about that." His gaze flicks from Rose to Jack, including him in the apology.

Jack sends him a smile and a shrug. When he said he forgave the Doctor earlier, he meant the whole night.

Rose just waves him off. "S okay. Not what I meant, though. I meant the wankers who drugged our drinks in the first place. We're gonna deal with them, yeah?" She looks at the Doctor expectantly; so does Jack.

The Time Lord's mouth curves into a feral smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be just a fun night out…

The club manager was hesitant at first, but when they told him what had happened on his premises, he immediately produced the security footage.

The Doctor flinches as he watches himself, staring fixedly towards the dance floor, while the slight figure of the Ceridian approaches their table from behind. She bends forward, her hand flicks over their table just once, and she leaves the frame, no one sparing her a second glance.

Least of all him. Bleeding hell.

Jack touches his shoulder lightly. "You were right. It was her."

"Told you."

"I just wanted to make sure," Rose says.

"You were right to," Jack says with a smile. "Wouldn't have wanted to go off half-cocked."

The Doctor nods grimly. He and Jack were enraged enough to go on gut instinct, but given what he intends to do to the culprit, Rose was right to make sure they had the right person first. Still, seeing himself so utterly failing to protect his companions…

He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns his head.

The warmth and love shining in Jack's eyes, despite of what they've just seen, are humbling. He gives the Doctor a teasing smile. "Don't start."

He snorts at the turn-around of their usual pattern. Jack doesn’t mean flirting, of course; he's talking about self-blame. The Doctor grins. "Right. Got someone better to blame, anyway."

*****

The club owner wants to call the authorities right away. He's mortified that something like that happened on his premises. Rose almost feels sorry for him. It's a combination of Jack's sweet talking and the look in the Doctor's eyes as he promises none of the club's patrons will ever be bothered by that woman again that makes the owner agree to give them till evening to deal with it themselves.

It's easy enough to find her – few of her race travel this far in this century. A few well-aimed questions, accompanied by flirty smiles from Jack or Rose – whichever works – and they're standing outside a sleek little space glider moored near the center of the spaceport – an expensive parking space, the Doctor assures her.

"Right." The Time Lord looks at Jack. "How'd you want to play this?"

Jack raises an eyebrow. "You're asking me?" His eyes are twinkling. "Isn't this where you normally tell us to shut up and follow your lead?" His fingers gently play along the Doctor's wrist, taking the sting out of his words.

Rose giggles, and Jack winks at her.

The Doctor rubs his neck. "Not that bad, am I?" At Jack's grin, he concedes, "Well, Time Lord, me. My job to sort things, usually. But – you're the one who… well…"

"The one it hit hardest," Rose helps, earning herself two grateful glances.

"Yeah. So if you wanna take charge here – I'll follow _your_ lead, yeah?" Something in his tone is almost shy. Rose isn't sure what this is about, but clearly it goes back to the conversation the blokes had this morning.

Jack smiles, and touches the Doctor's elbow. There's a warmth in his eyes, as if- Rose looks away, feeling that something private is passing between them.

"Know what I really want?" Jack says. Rose looks back at him.

"What?" the Doctor asks.

Jack's lips are as thin as a knife blade. A corner of his mouth turns upwards. "I want her to be hit by the full force of the Oncoming Storm."

The Doctor's grin mirrors Jack's. "Right." He takes a step towards the door. Rose and Jack stand by his shoulders. "Follow my lead."

*****

The Doctor knocks. Jack would have gone for something a little more forceful. But he adjusts his features to match the Doctor's polite smile. It was his choice to do this the Doctor's way. And the fact that the Doctor explicitly gave him a choice means he really was listening earlier. That thought makes it easier to smile.

The door opens to the slight form of the Ceridian, her fur sleep-ruffled in the middle of the day, eyes reddened and ears laid back. "What do you want?" She looks the Doctor up and down. When her gaze turns to Jack, her eyes widen and her fingers fumble for the door control.

"Hello!" the Doctor says brightly, stepping over the threshold into the ship. Rose follows, and Jack brings up the rear. He closes the door and positions himself right in front of the controls. Rose throws him a glance, and he nods towards the console in the front of the ship. Rose leans against it nonchalantly, while the Doctor backs the Ceridian into the corner between the vessel's wall and her bunk, blocking the path to the cargo bay. He's still smiling widely. "So nice to finally meet you face-to-face! I'm the Doctor, by the way, and this is Rose and Jack. Well, I suppose you've met Jack quite… close-up already, haven't you? Though maybe not as close as you would have liked?"

"I didn't do anything!" she hisses. She's gesticulating with her left paw – which doesn’t distract Jack from her right sneaking behind her back.

He pulls his blaster and points it straight at her. "I wouldn't do that if I were you!" She's too close to the Doctor for him to actually fire, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rose reaching for a large spanner lying on the console.

The Ceridian freezes. The Doctor reaches around her and holds up a Drex VII laser shooter. "Ah, now is that any way to greet guests? And what did you say your name was?"

Her ears droop. "Relle of the Grinru Clan."

"Grinru, huh? Give my regards to Sarlo." The Doctor still sounds perfectly pleasant. He passes Jack the shooter and looks pointedly at his blaster. Jack pockets both guns, but keeps his within easy reach.

"You… you know Sarlo?" Relle's tail is swishing back and forth.

"Oh, yes. Old drinking buddies, him and me." He turns back to Relle, and his voice goes ice cold. "I wonder what he'd say if he knew one of his clan is going around drugging and raping people." All the lines of his frame shift – he seems taller, harder, and much more dangerous. Jack is almost glad he can't see his eyes.

"I didn't-" she protests, stepping back until her whipping tail hits the wall.

"Don't even try to tell me Jack was the first one you drugged. If we hadn't caught on, you'd have had your way with him and left me and Rose to the mercy of the next passer-by, wouldn't you?"

She bares her teeth. "All I wanted was a little fun! I was just going to make him pleasure me, not hurt him."

The Doctor steps so close to Relle that her pointy ears peeking over his shoulders are all Jack can see of her. "And that sentence neatly illustrates why we'll make damn sure you never have a chance to do that to anyone again."

Jack grins in grim satisfaction. He glances at Rose. She seems torn between disgust and anger.

"Jack," The Doctor says, his tone cold and commanding. "Scan this place for Cling."

Jack punches a few buttons on his wristcomp. "In the cargo bay, right by the door. At least ten kilos."

The Doctor's lines harden even further. "Not just a user then, eh? You sell this stuff."

Relle tries to sidestep the Doctor. He backs her against the tall storage unit at the foot-end of her bunk. Her bared teeth and slitted eyes speak of more anger than fear.

"Rose," the Doctor says. "Go to the cargo bay and find the Cling. Blueish powder, probably wrapped in thermoneutride vacuum foil – looks like cellophane. Go to the wet cell – should be to your left – and flush it." Rose nods and heads for the narrow doorway.

"No!" Relle howls and tries to dodge the Doctor. He brings his arms down to the right and left of her, pinning her effectively without actually touching. She snaps her teeth at him, but he doesn’t flinch. "You're destroying my livelihood!" Just then, they hear ripping sounds, followed by a series of small splashes.

The Doctor grins wolfishly. "Wouldn't worry about your livelihood. They'll feed you in prison."

Relle is shocked into silence at first, then she begins to sputter. "I'm not… You can't…" There's the sound of a hydrosonic toilet flushing. Relle's outrage turns into a grin. "You have no proof."

Rose emerges from the cargo room, holding up a small packet. "Kept one for evidence." She smiles at the proud glances she gets from both men.

"Good thinking, Rose." Jack squeezes her shoulder.

"Yeah. It was." He focuses on Relle again. "Though not necessary in this case. Since you'll confess an' all."

She sneers. "Why would I do such a thing?"

The Doctor's back to smiling politely, and his voice sounds positively pleasant when he says. "Because I'm telling you to."

She flashes her claws, but doesn’t actually strike. Clearly, she knows that she'd stand no chance in a physical fight. She's trying to bluff or talk her way out. "And who are you to give orders to me, human?"

The Doctor grins. "Ah, see, that's where you're making a mistake." His voice goes cold again and he leans in, his nose inches from her snout. "You want to know who I am?"

Jack's telepathic senses, weak as they are, scream, and his shields come up reflexively. At the same time, Relle covers her face with her paws and starts shaking her head. Jack looks over at Rose, who seems confused but unaffected.

"What's going on?" she asks him.

"The Doctor's projecting at her. Very loudly."

"Projecting?"

"Telepathically." He sees Relle wrapping her tail around herself tightly. Her knees are starting to shake.

"He's in her mind?" Rose looks torn between satisfaction and disdain. She's not a telepath, but fascinated by the idea. They've discussed the ethics of telepathy many times.

"Not really," Jack explains. "It's more like he's right outside her door, yelling at the top of his voice. She can't help hearing him, but he's not inside." Relle's beginning to slide down the wall, curling herself into a fetal position.

"What's he saying?"

"I don't know. It's very focused on her. I'm just getting echoes."

Relle is rocking back and forth now, keening.

The echoes stop. Relle stares up at the Doctor, wide-eyed.

The Time Lord smiles, but there's nothing warm or comforting in it. "So – that's who I am. And now, will you go to the police like a good girl, tell them what you did, who your suppliers are, and the names of all your customers?"

Relle shakily stands up. "I… I… yes, Milord." Her voice is very small.

With one of the most patronizing grins Jack has ever seen from his lover, he pats her on the head. "Atta girl. Run along now." Then his eyes harden. "If you _ever_ come near me or mine again…"

"I won't!" Relle squeaks, and hastens towards the door. Rose steps aside to let her pass, Jack hits the door controls, and she's out and hurrying towards the city center before the door is even fully open.

"Are we sure she'll turn herself in?" Rose asks, putting the now-unneeded packet of Cling down on the bunk.

Jack and the Doctor exchange a dark grin. "Psychology," Jack says.

The Doctor steps closer to Jack. "Enough Oncoming Storm in that for your liking?"

Jack's reply makes Rose hit the door controls. She's used to the blokes, but there's no need to alarm passers-by.

*****

The Doctor takes them out to dinner after that, to a little restaurant not far from the space port. On their way back to the TARDIS for an early night, they notice a lot of police vehicles and men in uniform with blinking metal wands that look like some kind of scanner. "Raids," the Doctor says with a satisfied smirk.

As they part ways at the door to Jack's room, Rose hugs the Doctor good-night. He returns the embrace warmly. "You're sure you're all right with this? Ignored you for most of the morning already."

She grins and shakes her head. "You can make it up to me later."

Her hug with Jack is tight and long. The Doctor smiles. Knowing that his companions are just friends, he finds their open physical affection nothing but sweet. Funny how he's not jealous at all when he trusts.

Not that he's ever jealous, of course.

He hears Jack mumble thanks into Rose's ear – for forgiving him, for her support, for understanding that he needs alone time with his lover right now.

Rose just smiles. "It's all right. Really." She spiders her fingers up Jack's side, making him squirm and pull away. Then she winks and makes a "Get on with it," gesture in the Doctor's direction.

As soon as she leaves, Jack turns to the Doctor. "We're going shopping tomorrow. Some place with lots of pink clothes and sparkly jewelry." He enters his room.

The Doctor sighs. "Was gonna say we'll go anywhere you want." He follows, closing the door behind them.

"This is it, then." Jack seems determined.

The Doctor nods. Jack is right. While he can easily come up with at least twelve places all of them would enjoy, Rose deserves a day that's all about her. And she'll appreciate the gesture.

"And we'll _both_ go with her," Jack continues. "And be cheerful about it."

The Doctor raises an eyebrow. "Didn't know I needed you to tell me how to be nice to Rose."

Jack deflates. "Sorry. Nervous."

"'Bout shopping?"

"About something you said."

A tiny knot of dread settles in the Doctor's stomach, like an ice marble. "What's that?"

"I've been thinking." Jack sits down on the bed and pulls off his boots. "About what you said about Time Lords and sex. How there's a deeper connection that I don't get."

The Doctor winces. These are not things he likes to speak of. Not things that should ever be spoken of. The icy knot in his stomach becomes heavier and harder. "Yeah?"

Jack's gaze is searching. "You said you only develop the drive if you feel that deep connection. The one I can't understand. You have the drive with me."

The clump of ice in his guts sends shivers up and down his spine. He knows where this is going now. He nods.

"So there's a whole dimension of your feelings for me that I don't get. Can't ever get. And that I don't return."

He squeezes his eyes shut. Icy tentacles wrap around his hearts. This is it. The "We're just too different" conversation. Jack is going to tell him that he needs someone he can relate to, not someone who has whole inner worlds he can't even explain.

He's been afraid of this ever since they first started being more than just companions.

Hell, no. He's always afraid of this even with companions. And the day always comes when they leave, because they want a normal life.

But damn, this hurts. He didn't think it'd be so soon. He thought he'd have more time.

He feels a touch on his jaw and opens his eyes. Jack's face is inches from his, full of concern. He startles backwards at what the Doctor knows must be raw pain in his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stir up the pain. I just wanted-"

"I understand." Easier if he says it himself. "Too alien, me. Better if we're just friends."

Suddenly, there's fear on Jack's face that mirrors his own, but it's gone in a split-second. "Wait… are you saying that because it's what you want, or because it's what you think I want?"

"Like you said. We're too different. Whole lot of stuff 'bout me that's just weird to you."

Jack steps closer, and takes the Doctor's face between his palms. The Doctor wants to step back – he doesn’t need a kiss good-bye. But the tenderness feels so good, and who knows if he'll ever have it again. He closes his eyes and swallows against the nausea.

"I'm not dumping you."

His eyes snap open, search Jack's. There's complete honesty there, and annoyance.

"I'm not dumping you, you idiot. Are you dumping me?"

He shakes his head, not quite trusting his voice.

"Good. Didn't think so." Jack lets go and sits back down on the bed, patting the blanket next to him.

The Doctor sits down numbly. His knees are feeling wobbly, anyway.

"What I was trying to say is…" Jack takes a deep breath. Clearly whatever it is is not easy for him. "Would it help if I let you into my mind while we have sex?"

This is so much not what he expected that it startles a laugh out of him. "What?"

"If I let you hold contact with my mind while we shag, could I… return… more of whatever it is you're feeling?"

"You don't like telepathy." The lad's always been wary of it, allowing contact only when there was no choice. Him offering it so freely now...

"That's not what I asked," Jack says impatiently. "Would it help?"

He shakes his head. "No. Not for that. Mental contact during sex can be fantastic, but it wouldn't help here. The things I was talkin' about… your mind just can't process them, telepathically or otherwise."

Jack takes a deep breath and nods. "All right." He's clearly trying to hide his relief.

The Doctor squeezes his thigh. "Where'd that come from?"

Jack shrugs. "Would have been willing to do it to be less… lacking." He sounds completely matter-of-fact, but the last word stops the Doctor cold.

"You're not lacking." _What the hell?_ "Bloody brilliant is what you are."

Jack grins. "Thanks. But, like you said, there are things I can't give you. Important things."

The Doctor shakes his head, picking at his jeans above the knee. Seem to be getting a bit thin there. May be time to retire this pair.

Jack is still looking at him, waiting for a reply. He takes a deep breath. "What we have… never thought I'd have that again, after... I'm not settling, Jack."

"Like hell you aren't."

The Doctor looks up again. He considers denying it, but Jack's eyes show his lover's seen through him already. He nods. "Yeah. I am. I'm sorry." He holds his breath, waiting for Jack's reaction. Being told his partner feels he settled… He's afraid he's going to lose Jack after all.

Jack grins wryly. "Everybody settles, Doctor."

The Doctor blinks. "What?"

"No one can be everything to someone else. No one's the perfect partner. Never figured I was yours. We all find the closest to our ideal that we can, then settle." He shrugs. "That's why I don't believe in monogamy. Puts too much pressure on one person."

The Doctor's feelings are in turmoil. He's torn between relief at Jack's acceptance, and sheer terror at his last statement. He's not sure what's on his face, but apparently whatever it is is enough to make Jack understand.

"Oh, relax. You know I'm monogamous for you. It's the only way you'll have me."

"I… I wouldn't want to take something…" But he's lying. Hell, he can't open their relationship. He just can't. Damn Time Lord morals and instincts, but he could never accept it if Jack-

Jack puts a hand on his knee. "It's all right. You were clear about that from the start. No flings, no kisses, and getting growled at for flirting."

"But it's not what you want." Has Jack been resenting their agreement all along?

Jack shrugs. "Sometimes, I see someone when we're out, and I think to myself 'Damn, if only the Doctor wasn't so hung up about sex.'"

At his dismayed expression, Jack grins. "And then I turn around and write them off. Because you're worth it."

And one day, Jack'll get fed up with it. Probably soon. Sex is so very important to him. "If you ever… really need to… maybe I could…" He can't even pretend.

"No, you couldn't. And I'll never 'really need to.'" Jack shrugs. "The thing about casual sex not being a big deal for me? Cuts both ways. Yes, I wish I had a partner who didn't mind if I tasted other samples, but in the end, the main course is more important to me." He smiles – his real smile, not the one he uses to blind people. "I can't have you and casual flings both. So – I settle."

There's a tentative smile on the Doctor's face. "Settle for an insufferably arrogant git who'll impose his values on you?"

Jack grins. "Aw, he has his good sides." He leans closer. "Great kisser, for instance."

The Doctor hesitates for one second, searching Jack's eyes. Then he leans in, and Jack proceeds to kiss him breathless, respiratory bypass or not.

When they break apart, Jack looks at him earnestly. "Everybody settles, Doctor. The one thing that matters is – are you happy with what you settled for?"

"Yes. Those things you can't comprehend… I can't get them, Jack. Never again. Not from anyone. But I thought… I didn't think it'd ever be this good again." He struggles. He shouldn't even speak of these things. But Jack deserves to know, and there's no way to _let_ him know except words. "Even if you can't return them… the fact that you make me feel them..." He stops, and is glad to see Jack nodding his understanding. "Sorry. Hard to talk about."

Jack eyes light with realization. "That's why you can never say those words, isn't it?"

Damn. _I love you._ Three little words. Six phonemes. It should be so easy to say. He certainly feels it. But… "It's not something we're supposed to express in _words_." The very thought leaves a disgusting taste in his mouth. "Not ever."

Jack nods. "It's fine. Don't need you to say it. Never did. Just nice to understand why."

He shuffles his feet. "Right. So… You're still all right with the deal, yeah?"

Jack smiles. "Yeah."

"'S just, sometimes…"

Jack frowns. "What?"

"Sometimes, when you flirt… It's okay to flirt, I know I said it was okay, and it is, but…"

Jack puts a hand on his shoulder. "Just say it."

"Sometimes you flirt so damn hard." Fuck, he sounds like a jealous teenager. But hearing that Jack finds monogamy pointless has rattled his self-confidence more than he wants to admit.

Jack laughs. "You want to know why?"

"I do know! Flirting just comes natural to you." And there really is nothing wrong with that, dammit.

"No. Well, yes. A little bit of flirting, sure. But when I flirt really hard? It's for you."

He stops. "What?"

Jack grins. "I know you'll say you don't get jealous, but… When I flirt really hard, you have a tendency to throw me on the bed and screw me through the mattress later on." He grins wolfishly "Sometimes more than once."

He feels his jaw slacken and swallows to get his voice back. His ears are burning.

"I never flirt that hard unless you're watching, you know?" Jack's grin is teasing now, and he's slowly licking his lips. "It's almost the only way I can get you to really let go."

Right. Aware of his own superior physical strength, the Doctor usually takes great care to hold himself back. He knew that Jack sometimes likes it a bit rough, of course, but he may have underestimated how much. The Doctor feels a mixture of annoyance and amusement smooth away the tension in his gut. Warmth is beginning to pool in his groin. "Oh, you ain't seen nothin' yet, my lad." He schools his face to the mask of a predator, with just a hint of Oncoming Storm.

He can hear Jack's pulse picking up and his breathing getting faster, and the human's pupils are dilating. "Talk's cheap." The teasing tone's well played, and Jack even manages a scoff. "Show me."

The Doctor grabs Jack around the waist, pulls him close, and bites the nape of his neck. He looks up at Jack's hiss of pain, and sees his lover's eyes burn with desire. The Doctor bends his lips to Jack's pulse point and sucks the heated skin into his mouth, gently first, then hard, marking it. Jack groans and lets his head drop back, his fingers digging into the Doctor's shoulders, sending flames of arousal up and down his spine.

The Doctor feels heat rushing through his body. He makes no attempt to control it. For the second time today, Jack's summoned the Oncoming Storm. And for the second time today, he'll get it.

*****

Jack can't stop grinning the next day. Not even when Rose teases him mercilessly about walking funny. Not even when the Doctor threatens to take them to Fennion Twelve for a long nature hike. And when they go to Glominian instead to give Rose the shopping trip to end all shopping trips, he makes sure she has a good time – but whenever she's in a changing room, he flirts with every shop clerk, cashier and customer who'll respond.

Standing directly in the Doctor's line of sight.

The End


End file.
